


273

by Skyelara



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Past Character Death, Roommates, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyelara/pseuds/Skyelara
Summary: Sango is surprised when her new roommate is not, in fact, a girl like Kagome had promised. Miroku isn't quite what she expected. He brings home girls almost every night, until one day he doesn't. Sango isn't quite sure if that terrifies her or excites her.
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 57





	1. Who Are You?

“Who the hell are you?”

She doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding that brash, but she is surprised to see a stranger in her kitchen. She catches him mid-action, putting away a plate that doesn’t look anything like the plates that are currently in her cabinet. His mouth parts open in surprise, like he wasn’t expecting her to be here. She watches with calculating eyes as he puts the dark blue plate down on the countertop, turning his attention toward her.

“Are you Sango?”

“I’ll ask you one more time,” she says in a low voice. She grips the doorknob as if it’s her lifeline. Something brushes against her subconscious mind. She forces herself to stay calm. “Who the hell are you?”

“Kagome didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question. He laughs humorlessly, scratching the back of his head. She wonders briefly if that’s his nervous tick. 

Her lips purse. “Tell me what?”

“I’m taking over her lease for the next 273 days. I was supposed to move in a few days from now but was able to move in earlier.”

Anger swells deep within her. “Excuse me?” She shakes her head. Her knuckles are white from her grip on the door handle. “I was supposed to help Kagome pack today. Why wouldn’t she contact me about this? The girl moving into her room was supposed to be her friend. I don’t remember her saying anything about her friend being male.” 

She doesn’t like the way he’s looking her over. His eyes are dark, like the night sky. She hates the sympathy she sees in depths of those eyes, shining through like stars. She doesn’t need his pity. She needs answers.

“Plans change,” he says finally with a sigh. 

She’s having trouble containing her anger. It pushes against her, crashing in waves that threaten to break her resolve. She has to bite her tongue to keep from saying something she’ll regret. It’s not this man’s fault that this is happening. He doesn’t deserve her temper. She swallows her irritation down, focusing instead on Kagome. She wasn’t the type of person who would let some strange man take over her lease. 

The man speaks again, “To answer your earlier question, my name is Miroku. I’m a friend of InuYasha’s.”

“Sango,” she replies. She finally relinquishes her grasp on the door, running a hand through her bangs. “I’m Sango.” His name sounds somewhat familiar. She’s sure she’s heard InuYasha mention it before. This makes her feel slightly better, albeit she’s not sure how she feels about the whole situation. “If you don’t mind, Miroku,” his name tastes foreign on her tongue as she tests it out, “I’m going to call Kagome to find out what is going on.” She turns her attention to her suitcase and starts to fumble with the outside pouch zipper.

“Oh, no need,” he says with a small smile. “She’s downstairs with InuYasha. They’re finishing packing up her things and helping me move in. I can’t believe you missed them on your way up.”

The nerve of this guy! “And you just causally forgot to mention that?” The bite is back in her voice. “You could have led with that. What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, but he’s mostly harmless.”

Sango swirls around at the sound of InuYasha’s voice. “InuYasha! Kagome!” She runs over to hug her roommate. Former roommate, she mentally corrects. “What is going on? Why does this man—”

“Miroku.”

She ignores him, “--say he’s taking over the remainder of your lease? What is going on? I thought we had agreed on one of your girl friends,” she says with a strong emphasis on the word girl as she stares daggers at Miroku.

Kagome pulls back. “I am so sorry, Sango. I tried to call you, but I guess your phone was turned off while you were flying back today. I did leave a couple of voicemails in the hope you would get them once you got off the plane, but I guess you didn’t.” She laughs, waving a hand in front of her. “Everything happened so fast. My friend backed out and Miroku needed a place to stay. I didn’t want to leave you without a roommate, so we thought it would be a win-win situation! We know him well, and I know you will put him in his place if need be.” Kagome sends a warning glare over Sango’s shoulder in Miroku’s direction. 

Miroku’s laugh fills Sango’s ears. She glances back and sees him rubbing the back of his head again. He shoots her a sheepish grin. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

She doesn’t believe that innocence for a second. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Sango says, eyeing him with a wary expression. He’s all smiles though. She can see through that in a second. She turns her attention back to Kagome and InuYasha. “Let me get changed and I’ll help you guys finish up. I caught an earlier flight so I could help out.”

“Sounds good,” Kagome says. “We’re almost done. Miroku helped out quite a bit before you arrived.”

At least he’s helpful, Sango thinks wistfully as she grabs her suitcase and heads for her room adjacent to the kitchen. She glances at Miroku as she walks past the counter, his pensive eyes watching her every step. His lips tip up slightly in a smirk. She frowns as she rounds the corner, still feeling his gaze burning into her. She wonders if she’ll feel like this every day with him. Like she’s small. Claustrophobic, even. She hopes not. It’s unnerving.

She shuts the door behind her and spots her cat, Kirara, curled up in a ball on her perch. The cream cat lifts her head and lets out a mew. Sango scratches under her chin, gushing, “I missed you too, Kirara.” She gets purrs in response and knows she’s forgiven for leaving for the weekend. Sango wonders if Kagome let Miroku know she had a cat. Hopefully he’s not allergic. On second thought, hopefully he is so he can leave.

Suitcase hoisted up to her bed, Sango unzips it and begins to unpack, dumping most of her clothes into her hamper. She sheds her blouse and pencil skirt, adorning some leggings and a dark pink t-shit. She bites her lip, staring at the door when she hears the three of them laughing. 

She understands that Kagome wanted to move in with InuYasha, especially with him signing a new lease in a bigger place for them. She knows it won’t be long before he proposes, and they start a family. She hears them whispering about it sometimes behind her door when it’s late at night and they think she’s asleep. She gets it, but she feels a pang in her heart knowing she won’t see her best friend every day and will instead be waking up to a stranger. 

He won’t be a stranger for long, she thinks, and she pulls her hair up in a ponytail. This will be the new normal.

“Sango, hurry the hell up!”

“I’m coming!” she yells to InuYasha and steps out of her room. “You’re so impatient.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent moving all of Kagome’s things to their moving truck and helping move Miroku’s things out of his moving truck. Sango does her best to avoid him but catches him staring at her more than she would like. She also is aware of the warning glances InuYasha gives him. She’s not sure what these silent communications mean, but it’s making her nervous. She knows Kagome wouldn’t let her live with anyone dangerous. She knows this, but when they finish and her friends leave, she runs to the comfort of her room and lies in bed, staring at the ceiling wondering how the next 273 days are going to be.


	2. Do You Even Work?

She's beginning to think Miroku doesn't work.

Every morning when she leaves for her job, he's just starting his day by making himself breakfast. He'll wave goodbye to her while he sips his coffee, watching eyes following her as she leaves their apartment. When she gets back home after five, he'll be home sitting on a recliner with a laptop while he watches TV. Once again, he'll nod to her or wave in a small greeting. They'll eat dinner separately. They'll retreat to their respective rooms. Repeat.

This happens for almost a week. No talking. Just nods or waves. She's alright with that, she supposes. She doesn't need to get to know this man. She's too busy with work and making sure Kohaku is doing well in college.

On seventh day, he finally breaks their silence.

"Do you run every morning?"

His voice takes her by surprise. She drops her water bottle and lets out a gasp, whirling around. He's seated at the counter, cheek in the palm of his hand. His eyes reflect the refrigerator light. Sango closes her eyes for a second, stabilizing herself on the opposite counter.

"Sorry, I thought you saw me when you came in." He at least has the decency to sound remorseful.

Sango can only nod, not yet trusting her voice. She bends down and picks up her water bottle. It shakes in her hand, so she places it on the counter. She pushes her bangs out of her face. They're slick with sweat, but she only feels cold.

"So…every morning?" Oh right, he asked her a question. His dark eyes scrunch with concern around the corners. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, "I'm fine. Yeah, I run every morning. Well, most mornings. Sometimes I'll head to the gym and lift."

His lips tip down just a fraction, like he doesn't quite believe her being alright. "I don't know how you wake up so early." He glances at the clock. "It's five thirty in the morning."

Sango shrugs. "It's not that early. Not everyone can sleep in, some of us have work to do. Besides, you're up now, aren't you?"

Miroku quips an eyebrow at that. "What?"

"You're always home when I leave and get home. Do you work?"

A laugh erupts from his mouth. He covers it with his hand as if he can stifle it. "Have you not heard of me before?"

Annoyance plucks at her, and she places a hand on her hip. Seriously, who does this guy think he is? "I'm sorry, should I know you?"

"Well, I would love to get to know you considering we are roommates after all." There's a suggestive undertone that makes her feel uneasy. "I don't mean that though, I mean have you heard of me."

"No," she says flatly. "Never heard of a Miroku before."

"You read?"

"Crime stories," she says, "When I have free time."

"Ah," Miroku nods like that makes sense, "no romance then?" There's a slight wiggle in his eyebrows. His eyes dance with mirth. His lips curl into a grin that teases her.

"No time for romance," she says in a voice that shuts him down. "Are you going tell me what you do, or what? I'd really like to get on with my day. Busy schedule and all."

He stands up from the bar and retreats to his room shouting, "Better to show you!"

Sango stands in the kitchen, perplexed. What the heck would he need to go to his bedroom for? Was that supposed to be an invitation? She gnaws on her lip, unsure of what to do, but he saves her from having to make a decision when he returns less than a minute later, a book in hand. He tosses it on the counter before claiming his respective seat again.

Curiosity takes over, and she peers at the cover of the book. There's a man half naked holding a woman in his arms in an intimate embrace that makes her cheeks flare. Their lips are mere inches away, desire lighting their eyes. Bittersweet Disposition by Miroku Hoshi. She opens the book to a page and immediately shuts it when she catches some of the sensual wording. She snorts, trying to hide her discomfort. "Your last name means monk and you're writing this romantic garbage?"

Miroku shrugs off her insult. "That romantic garbage was a best seller."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. The ladies love me."

Sango ignores that last bit. "You're a best-selling author. Why do need to share an apartment with me?" Seconds after she asks the question, she realizes how rude she sounds. "I'm sorry, forget it. That wasn't right of me to ask that kind of question."

He shrugs her off, a lazy smile pulling at his lips. "It's okay, I'm not bothered by it. I'm working on my next novel and want some privacy from the paparazzi. Kagome wanted to live with InuYasha, and InuYasha knew my situation so they offered to help. They assured me my secret was safe with you. They both said you were very loyal."

Her cheeks burn in embarrassment at his words. "I mean, I didn't even know you were famous until a few minutes ago, so I doubt I would even be able to spill the beans."

His smile widens. "Thank you. It also doesn't hurt to be living with a beautiful woman, either."

She grabs her water off the counter and huffs, turning away hoping to hide the fire in her face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure that may work for fictional girls, but flattery will only get you so far, Monk."

He laughs as she storms off to her room. "Well, finally. We're making some progress! You gave me a nickname."

"Doesn't count if it's your last name!" She slams the door behind her, retreating to the safety and comfort of her room.

She hears him retort, "It totally does count!"

"Idiot," she mumbles but isn't quite so sure if she's talking about him or herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope it shows :) I hope everyone has a wonderful New Years! As always, let me know what you think!


	3. When Will You be Quiet?

Sango stares at the ceiling in the dark of her room. Her eyes burn from lack of sleep. The eerie glow from her clock encases the room in a dull red. A sigh escapes her lips as she absentmindedly scratches Kirara behind her ears. She feels the vibrations of her purrs against her fingers. She focuses on the sound of her cat, trying to ignore the sounds coming from outside her room.

Miroku. That idiot, promiscuous, jerk. She should have known when he disclosed to her that he wrote romance that he was well-versed in the area. She just didn't realize that he was this well-versed. Even more irony for the man with the last name Hoshi.

She snorts at this, as if it will somehow make the situation better. He's on a five-day streak. Whether it's the same girl or not, she is unsure. She accidentally bumped into a poor blonde trying to sneak out yesterday morning as Sango went out for her morning run. She was young and gave Sango an apologetic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her cheeks were tinged red and her lips swollen from her night with Miroku.

A quick glance at the clock reads it is two fifty-four in the morning. Seriously, how does he have this much stamina? They've been going at it for almost two hours. She has work in the morning, for goodness sake!

Mind made up, Sango rips off her covers, careful not to disturb Kirara in the process, and storms out of her room. The noises Miroku and the girl are making are even louder without the barrier of her door to quiet them. Sango pauses, her conviction swaying as she hears a moan of the girl whimpering his name. Sango's ears burn at the intimacy and wonders if she should bother them. A quick thump against the wall of his room strengthens her resolve.

"Five nights in a row is too much," she mutters, stomping over to his door. "A girl needs sleep." She bangs on his door and is awarded with sudden silence.

She doesn't expect him to come to the door, so she's about to turn around and saunter back to her room with victory when she hears Miroku muttering something. The noises continue with a new vigor and she can practically feel the vibrations coming through the wall.

Hands balled into fists, Sango knocks on the door again even harder and yells, "This has gone on long enough, Miroku! I have work in the morning, and you've had your fun for five days! I'll stop banging when you stop banging!"

Curses emit from behind the wall and before she knows it, his door swings open. She gapes as a half-naked Miroku stands in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest. His muscles flex at the movement. Her eyes inadvertently scan down past his abs. He has a blanket strategically covering his lower half. She notes it matches the dark color of his eyes. She briefly wonders if that's his favorite color. Her heart jolts in her chest as she realizes she's practically ogling him. Sango tries desperately to keep her vision on his top half, but she's failing and her whole face is on fire as she sputters at him. Does he have no decency? No, of course he doesn't.

"Ah, there's my beautiful roommate." A wolf-like smile erupts on his face as he leans on the doorframe. "Like what you see, Sango?" His eyebrows waggle at her.

He's teasing her!

"No," she all but lies, because she can't deny that he's handsome, even if he is a man-whore.

"You know, you're more than welcome to join us. You don't have to just stand there waiting for an invitation."

She frowns at his words. As much as Miroku has teased her these past few weeks, it's never been as blunt as this. "As if! Some of us have principles," she says as she holds her head high. "I don't care what you do, as long as you're quiet about it."

"Sorry," he all but grins, "but it's hard to have my lady friend be quiet when one is as skilled as I am."

"You sure she's not just faking it to make you feel better?"

It's his turn to be taken aback. His eyes widen and his mouth parts open. He then lets out a loud laugh, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Funny, Sango, that was very funny. If you read my book, you'll see just how skilled I really am. Unless, you want to experience the real thing?" She freezes as he stumbles forward and reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Something is wrong, she thinks, as his hand falls to her back, going lower, lower, and lower until….

She's not quite so sure what possess her, but the next thing she knows is that her hand is aching. Pins and needles attack her palm. A handprint blossoms on his cheeks like a red rose, and there is real surprise in his deep blue eyes that arise like a wave in the ocean. The hand that touched her backside is gone. He touches his cheek gently and winces. At this point, her eyes are wide as well in shock with her actions, but she can't find herself to be remorseful one bit.

"Keep your hands to yourself, pervert. Goodnight," she seethes and marches back to her room.

Finally, the house is silent. Sango is victorious, but somehow it doesn't quite feel like it. She hears two doors close and assumes his "friend" has left for the night after their talk. Unfortunately, she can't seem to find sleep as all she can feel is the lingering warmth of his hand on her cheek and her back.

Sango pulls the cover of her head and groans. What is wrong with her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the new year! I've actually used the "I'll stop banging when you stop banging!" bit before back in college when I had a similar incident occur with the apartment next door, so I had to slip it in :) I hope you all enjoyed, and have a wonderful New Years!


	4. So, You're Going to Apologize?

"I'm really sorry about last night."

The words crash into her as soon as she opens the door to her apartment. Sango's hand is still on the doorknob with her keys in the other. He startles her with the earnest expression on his face, but what startles her more are the two plates on the counter covered with enticing food. The delicious smell wafts through the room.

"What?"

He sighs, and his shoulders slump with the action. "I said I'm really sorry about last night. Er, this morning, I guess? Or the last five days really?"

Sango's cheeks flare up in remembrance of how close his hand came to her butt. "Oh?" She tries to sound indifferent, but she's sure he can hear the shakiness in her voice. She watches as he tugs at his small ponytail around the nape of his neck. So, he is remorseful or at least has the courtesy to be embarrassed, she thinks.

"I had a little bit too much to drink last night."

"Using alcohol as an excuse. Haven't heard that one before," she quips sarcastically, shutting their apartment door and strolling over to sit at the counter. She picks up a fork and prods at the plate full of rice, tomatoes, peppers, and steak. "Did you cook this for me?"

"For us," Miroku corrects. "As part of the apology."

Sango hums thoughtfully as she pops a forkful into her mouth. "What do you know," she says with a small smile. "He's not only great in bed, but is great in the kitchen, too."

He blanches at her statement. She's pleased to see the tips of his ears turn pink at her joke. Two can play at this game. "Did I say how sorry I was again?"

"You did, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again."

Miroku sits down next to her at the counter, pushing his rice with his fork. She glances over at him as she takes another mouthful, wistfully thinking that this is the first time they've ate together since he moved in a few weeks ago. She used to eat dinner with Kagome all the time. Sometimes even InuYasha would join them. She missed the company, she realizes, as she continues to watch Miroku. She should invite them over for dinner soon.

"My dad died around this time about 17 years ago."

A fork rattles against a plate at his words. She dimly realizes she's the one who dropped it and hastily tries to pick it up. Her heartbeat reverberates in her ears as she recognizes the topic they're about to discuss. Her knuckles are white as she clings to her fork. She's not ready. She's not ready for this at all.

He takes her sudden silence as permission to keep speaking. "He took his own life. He didn't know I was there, but I watched the whole thing. My uncle had to hold me back after he pulled the trigger," he says this in one whole breath, like he's afraid if he doesn't get it all out at once it'll consume him.

Sango trembles where she sits. She traces the designs on the utensil, trying to keep her mind occupied from going to a dark place she's so often tried to forget. "I'm sorry," she croaks in a broken voice, and she means it.

Miroku snaps his gaze over in his direction, as if her speaking broke him from his own memory. His hand encases hers. The warmth travels up her arm through her body before it settles in her cheeks. Her fingers quiver under his. His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing as if he's contemplating something. "Like I said earlier," he says slowly, as if welcoming the change in topic, "it's me who should be apologizing. This time of year is always hard on me, and I tend to try to find… distractions to help me cope."

Sango tugs her hand out from under his, sending him a warning glare. "I am not one of your distractions."

"I know," he smiles at her with forlorn eyes. "You're my roommate and off limits. I apologize I let alcohol cloud my judgement. I promise to keep the volume to a minimum with future, er, distractions."

Sango regards him with a pensive expression. "As I said last night, I don't care what or who you do as long as you're quiet. Thank you for your apology. I won't hold it against you as long as it doesn't happen again."

A smile tugs at his lips and warmth leaks back into the pools of his eyes. "I'll try my best."

"That's not a promise, Monk."

"I can't help that I have cursed hands when I drink, Sango."

She rolls her eyes at him but can't help but smile when she sees his. It's contagious. "I'm watching you."

"Oh, I know. I remember you watching me quite carefully last night."

She shoves him off the barstool before she can even comprehend what she's doing. Miroku's eyes are wide as he stares up at her before he barks out a genuine laugh that has his shoulders shaking. "You're something else, Sango."

She hums as he continues to laugh and picks himself up off the floor. She hesitates for a moment before saying, "I really am sorry about your father, Miroku. If you need to talk, I'm here."

"Thank you for your kindness, my dear Sango."

She chooses to ignore his choice of words. "So, are you going to cook for us every night now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I mean, this is pretty delicious and much better than anything I could come up with. Kagome was always the one who made our meals," she admits with a shy smile. "I'm pretty hopeless when it comes to this kind of thing."

"What have you been doing for this past month, then?"

"Takeout or microwaveable meals. Cereal was a popular choice, too."

He holds a hand over his heart like she's physically struck him. "My dear, Sango, how have you survived for so long?"

She shrugs. "My little brother always did the cooking growing up, and then when I moved here Kagome kind of just took over in that department." She realizes after she's spoken that she's opened up a can of worms, and she prays Miroku does not take the bait. She glances up at him and he's studying her with those damn eyes that always seem to look right through her.

Instead of prying, he says, "Your brother must be a phenomenal cook."

She practically collapses with relief and beams. "He's phenomenal in every way."

"Must run in the family," Miroku says. He dodges her hand with a quiet chuckle before she has the chance to push him off the stool again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a writing streak right now and it makes me so happy because I haven't written this much in ages. These two just have me so inspired. I hope everyone had a wonderful new year! :)


	5. Wanna Play 20 Questions?

"Let's play 20 questions."

Sango eyes Miroku from her spot on the couch, remote in hand. They had just finished dinner and decided to watch a movie together. Her eyes narrow slightly. Sango hates it when people talk during movies. "What?"

His head tilts a fraction to the right. "You do know what 20 questions is, right?"

"Yes, I know what it is," she snaps. "I'm asking why you want to play it."

"So we can get to know each other better." He practically jumps off his recliner to join her on the couch. He sits sideways, cross-legged, and watches her pensively. "We've lived together for over a month and I hardly know anything about you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Friends should know things about each other."

A humorless laugh tips from her lips into the space between them. "Oh, so we're friends now?"

"I'd like to be."

The laughter dies as quickly as it was born at his heartfelt expression. His blue searches her brown. Her mouth feels like sandpaper. She scrapes her tongue against her teeth and sighs. What can she say to that?"

"Fine."

Miroku's eyes light up like a little kid. "Excellent! I'll go first. How old are you?"

"Starting me off easy, huh? I'm 23 years old. You?"

"25," he says. He shifts on the couch. "You know what I do for a living. What do you do?"

"I work as the personal assistant to InuYasha's brother, Sesshomaru. He's the CEO of a marketing company," Sango explains. As an afterthought, she adds, "His daughter is dating my brother."

"Rin?"

"Oh, you know her?"

Miroku nods. "InuYasha is my best friend. Of course, I know his brother and daughter. She's in college now. I am assuming your brother is enrolled, too?"

"Yes, four hours away. They met freshman year of college."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Ah, there it is. Sango clicks her tongue. "I believe it was my turn to ask a question since you've already asked me two."

Miroku all but smiles. "Ah, that's right. Go ahead, my dear Sango."

"Did you always want to be a writer?" Sango asks, leaning back on the arm of the couch to put some space between them.

"No," he says, looking out the glass door to their balcony. "I went to therapy when I was younger after my dad died. One of the things my therapist had me do was keep a journal to write my feelings in. I hated it, to be honest with you. I was so angry at the world. Angry at my dad for leaving me like he did. I wrote stories about what would have happened if he survived. What would have happened if he didn't pull the trigger. Eventually, I realized I was good at it. I eventually branched out from stories about my dad. It became stories about girls and other people I came across, what hidden lives they had. Then, my first novel was born. I sent it off, it got picked up, and here we are."

Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion. "So, you don't like writing? Then why do it?"

Miroku shrugs, eyes drawn back to her. "I didn't like it at first, but it's grown on me. I go places, see strangers, and come up with backstories for them all. My imagination runs wild with the possibilities. Plus, it doesn't hurt that the ladies love a good romance."

"Did I have one?" The question tumbles from her lips before she can stop herself. She fiddles with a stray strand of hair.

"No," he says, leaning forward. There's a glimmer of something in his eyes that she can't quite place. "I'd like to actually know the real you."

Sango flushes at his answer, averting her gaze to the glass door. The sun is setting into the building across from them. It punctures the sun, and it bleeds red into the sky. It's poignantly beautiful.

"Don't," she murmurs, sneaking a glance back at him. "I'm not one of your one-night stands."

His smile mirrors the sunset. Poignantly beautiful. "I never said you were. Friends, remember?" There's something despondent in his tone, but it's as fleeting as the colors in the sky. "So, boyfriend? Yes or no?"

Sango rolls her eyes. "No, I don't have a boyfriend. Don't you think you would have noticed if I had one by now?"

"Just double checking before I make my move."

She chucks the remote at him. He easily dodges it as if he knew she would throw it. "Make a move and you'll get another slap to the face."

Miroku touches his cheek in remembrance and chuckles. "If that's the price I have to pay, so be it."

"You're disgusting."

"My one-night stands would have to disagree with you on that one. So, have you ever been in love?"

She snorts, squirming in her seat. "I could ask you the same question."

"No," he supplies in a simple tone. He extends his legs so they're inches from hers, leaning back against the arm of the couch. "Never been in love. Been searching for it, but alas, it always seems to elude me."

"If you were looking for love, you wouldn't have sex all the time with different girls."

His teeth show in a wide grin. "Gotta sample the goods to see if they're worth the purchase."

"You're so gross," Sango says with a wrinkle of her nose. She pushes him with her foot as if she can further the distance between them. "I don't understand what they see in you."

"It's my charm," he says. His grin is even wider if that's possible. "I'm very charming."

"Oh, you're something, alright. I'm not sure that charming would be the word, though."

Miroku clears his throat, "So what about you? Ever been in love?"

"No," Sango says wistfully, "I never had time for it."

"Ah, there's a story there," Miroku says. He shifts closer to her, putting his cheeks in his hands. His feet rest against hers. "I'm all ears."

"Oh, no," Sango says with a shake of her head. "No story. I just…," she gnaws at her lip, heart skipping a beat with trepidation. Why does she always do this? Why does she always open up an invitation to her personal life that she would rather keep shoved away? Maybe he does charm it out of her.

Surprisingly, he swoops in to save her. "You don't have to explain, if you don't want to."

It's quite chivalrous, she thinks, for him at least. She graces him with a grateful smile. She thinks about brushing it off but pauses when she remembers how much he's disclosed to her about his father. Maybe she can divulge just a little bit.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a shaky breath, she says, "My mom died when I was really young. My dad died when I was 16. It's hard to find time for a relationship when you have to take care of your kid brother on your own. I've been on some dates here and there, but I just never found the time for a relationship, is all."

"I'm sorry," he says, and she knows he means it.

It's unfortunate that they have tragedy in common. It might be the only thing they have in common, she ruminates. She also knows tragedy has a way of bringing people together, and she'll be damned if that's what happens with them.

She decides to change the subject with another question that's a bit lighter. "So, favorite color?"

"Blue," he says without hesitation. "But like, a deep blue. Like indigo."

"Isn't indigo purple?"

"Are you color blind?"

"No!" she kicks him lightly with her foot. "There's a definite purple tone in indigo."

Miroku's foot shoves her back. "Well, what's your favorite color, then?" he says, lips in a taunting pout. "Pink?" When Sango looks away, a blush on her cheeks, he snickers. "Oh my gosh, it is pink, isn't it?"

"Shut up." She chooses to throw a pillow at him instead. He laughs even harder when it hits his chest. "I know it's a typical girl color, but…, oh, shut up!"

"Cute, Sango, very cute."

Something swirls in her chest, pushing up like a wave against her heart when he calls her that. It could crush her or sweep her away. She frowns, tugging at the elastic on her wrist that once held up her hair. She shakes her head. The only reason she's feeling this way is because no guy has called her that before. That must be it.

"So, the most important question of the night. This will determine if we can be friends or not, so answer carefully. Are you ready?"

Sango raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious. What are your thoughts on having pineapple on pizza?"

Sango snorts at his question. "Is that even a question? It's my favorite kind of pizza."

"Okay, we can be friends. Good choice."

It's definitely not that she's starting to feel something for this charming womanizer. They are friends. That's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope it shows! <3 Enjoy!


	6. When Will You Leave?

When Sango walks out of her room to go for her morning run, the person seated at the kitchen counter isn't Miroku like she expected. She hesitates at the door, earbud in one ear and the other in her hand along with her cellphone. Her heart feels heavy in her chest with uneasy anticipation. She lets out a breath she doesn't realize she's been holding when she sees it's just one of Miroku's one-night stands.

The lights above the bar are casting a glow on the woman sitting on the stool. She immediately looks over at Sango, bright brown eyes sending her a calculating stare beneath two wispy strands of dark hair. Her lips purse for a moment as if deciding whether Sango is worth her time before she turns her attention back to nursing a glass of water.

Irritation rises within Sango immediately, bubbling up her throat and threatening to spill out her mouth. "Can I help you?" she snaps in question before she can swallow the words down.

"No. Thanks, though," the girl says without even giving Sango a side glance. She sits with her back slightly arched, leaning on the counter. Her tousled hair falls over her shoulder as if closing a curtain between them.

Sango isn't sure why, but this pisses her off even more. The dam breaks, and her annoyance bursts out in full force. "Sorry, let me rephrase. Is there a reason you're currently sitting in my kitchen drinking water at," she glances at the clock, "5:30 in the morning?"

The girl finally glances at her again with an eyebrow raised and states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm here with Miroku."

Sango snorts. He's had a handful of girls in the apartment, but Sango knows for a fact that they have all left before the sun rises. Sango once caught one dipping out, attempting to be inconspicuous when taking the walk of shame, while getting ready for her morning run. Other than that, it was like they hadn't been there at all. Sometimes, she could hear the door shut in the early morning hours. But never did one actually make it to dawn.

"You're here with Miroku," Sango repeats, free hand on her cocked hip.

"Yes," the girl huffs with displeasure. She tosses her long, silky hair over her shoulder. "And who are you?"

Sango's jaw hurts from how hard she's clenching her teeth. "Excuse me? Is that a serious question? I literally said earlier this is _my_ kitchen and _my_ apartment. Maybe you're not awake enough yet to process what I said, but I live here just like Miroku does." As the words tumble out of her mouth, Sango realizes how brash she sounds. It's not this girl's fault that Miroku is a womanizer. She bites her lip before she sighs into the space between them. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. My name is Sango."

Stiffly, she says, "Koharu."

"It's nice to meet you," Sango greets.

Silence envelops them. The girl, Koharu, continues to stare at her with lips in a firm line. Sango diverts her gaze and tugs at the bottom of her t-shirt, smoothing the wrinkles. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Trying to look anywhere but at Koharu's steely gaze, Sango's eyesight goes toward her outfit. She's wearing booty shorts and a razor-back tank. It's during this moment that Sango mortifyingly realizes that this girl isn't wearing a bra. Her eyesight snaps immediately back up to her face, cheeks burning at the thought of invading this girl's privacy, if she even cares about that.

"Weren't you leaving?" Koharu asks in a snap, impatience gleaming in her doe-like eyes.

Sango blinks. Is she trying to kick her out of her own apartment? "I'm sorry?" Sango doesn't even bother trying to hide the annoyance in her voice this time.

"You're leaving, right?"

"Does it matter if I am or not?"

"Well, I'd like to have some alone time with Miroku without you being here."

"So, you are trying to kick me out," Sango laughs, though it lacks humor. "Seriously? You're trying to kick me out of my own apartment?"

"To be honest with you," the girl drawls, crossing one toned leg over the other, "I'm not even sure why Miroku has you as a roommate, no offense."

"Let me tell you, you're not the first girl he's brought home, so don't go thinking yourself all high and mighty," Sango retorts and then adds just to be spiteful, "no offense."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, honey," Koharu says, leaning back in the chair before taking another sip of water. "He probably saved the best for last. We have chemistry, Miroku and I, and I don't recall him ever mentioning _you_."

Sango gapes. The nerve of this girl! She visibly shakes, trying to stop herself from hurling her phone at this chick. She reminds herself that the expense of a new phone would not be worth the fleeting moment of satisfaction. "Congratulations," Sango says, her voice dripping with disdain. "Though I doubt you all had time to talk last night with all the fucking you were doing. Physical connection and emotional connection are two different things."

Sango shakes her head, putting her other earbud in, signaling the end of the conversation. Honestly, she's a bit embarrassed by how quickly this girl got under her skin. Sango prided herself on being able to keep her cool and handle herself with grace. Is it because this girl was talking down to her? A frown tugs on her lips as her heart drops. Is it…is it because it was about Miroku? Is she, in fact, jealous like the girl had said?

Ridiculous. That can't be it. To be jealous means she feels something for that perverted Monk, which she, in fact, does not. Sure, he's handsome and can be slightly charming, but that does not equate to liking him. Or being jealous that he had yet another girl over last night for a fling. Although this girl made it sound like it wasn't just a fling.

Gods, what is wrong with her.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, and she welcomes the distraction from her intrusive thoughts. She peeks at the screen, surprised when she sees a text message from her roommate. A curious frown tugs at her lips. Why is he messaging her when he can just come out and talk to her?

**SOS!**

_SOS?_

**I need help and I heard you arguing with the girl out there.**

_She has a name you know, unless you don't remember it?_ Sango scoffs. So typical of a womanizer.

_**Now's not the time to patronize me, Sango! She won't leave. She's obsessed. She thinks she's my girlfriend now.** _

Sango glances up from the phone to find Koharu still observing her with cool eyes. "Is there something on my face?" she all but barks.

"No, just wondering why you're still here, is all."

"Once again, my apartment. I don't have to do anything." She rips the headphones out of her ears, setting her phone on the counter with more force than she meant to. She sits down next to the girl, leaning forward so her face is inches from Koharu's. She watches as the girl pales, prominent freckles dusting her cheeks. "Listen here, and listen close," Sango murmurs in a low voice. "Miroku does not care about you. You are a one-night stand. Just another notch on his belt. I'm saying this to protect you from getting hurt."

Koharu lifts her head high, cheeks puffed out like a fish. "You're saying this so you can keep him all to yourself, aren't you?"

Sango rubs her temples, exasperated. Her face flames at the sudden realization that Miroku is probably right near his door listening to the conversation. She pictures a smug grin dominating his features. "Definitely not!" she shouts just a little too loud. She furiously types on her phone, _Time to man up, Miroku! You got yourself into this mess, then you can get yourself out of it. Take out your own damn trash!_

Huffing, Sango snatches her stuff off the counter and struts over to grab her running shoes. As she's lacing them up, the sound of Miroku's door clicking open reaches her ears. Sango doesn't bother to look over at him, instead focusing on finishing putting on her shoes. She's wasted enough time this morning.

"Koharu," she hears him say in a voice hoarse with sleep. "Sorry to leave you waiting, but I'm actually about to head out with Sango for a morning run."

Sango snaps her head up at this, glaring over in his direction. Of course, he's still trying to bring her into this. His focus is on Koharu, though it looks like he's fighting to keep his eyes from glancing over her way.

The pout is evident in the girl's tone as she whines, "Miroku! Why do you have to go? We had such a great time last night."

His smile is bittersweet. "Alas, all good things must come to an end. I will always treasure the night we spent together, but I'm afraid that's all I can offer you." Sango somehow manages to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her shaky voice raising an octave.

"I mean that I can't give you all of me, Koharu," he says remorsefully. "I would if I could, but I just can't." She looks like she's about to ask why so he swiftly adds, "Allow me to walk you to the door?"

She nods, tears glistening in her eyes. She blinks them back. He takes her hand and leads her to the door where Sango is, frozen with a forgotten shoelace in her fingers. As Koharu leaves, he shuts the door and sighs, running a hand through his bangs.

"That was rough."

"You did it to yourself," Sango comments dryly. "Maybe if you quit fooling around, then you wouldn't have this problem." She clears her throat, wondering if she's imagining the hopeful undertone in her words.

"Well, normally they just leave on their own," he says with a small shrug, "but I think she didn't get the memo."

"You think?" Sango shakes her head, standing up. "Maybe this will be a lesson to you."

"Maybe," he quips, a small half-smile gracing his features. "You heading out for a run?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can I join?"

Sango pauses at his request, tilting her head a bit to look at him. Her brows scrunch with confusion. "What?"

"I asked if I could join you." Amusement dances in the blues of his eyes. "I normally run or workout after you leave, but I'm awake and figured we could run together."

"So, you meant what you said to Koharu earlier? When you said you were up to run with me?"

"Well," he says with a slight chuckle, "I'm not much of a morning person, but I can't think of a better way to spend my morning than running with my beautiful roommate as the sun rises."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Monk, especially after the stunt you just pulled." Sango places her earbuds in her ears. "You have two minutes to get ready or else I'm going without you."

Miroku salutes her, "Aye-aye, captain." He dashes to his room and shuts the door to get changed.

Sango retreats to the kitchen to fill up her bottle of water. She grabs her pink hydro flask, taking a sip of the icy water as she surveys the apartment. Something is out of place, she thinks, as she ambles over to the living room area. Bending slightly, she grasps at a red piece of fabric tucked loosely behind a throw pillow on the couch. As she yanks it out, she yelps and drops both the item and her water bottle on the carpeted floor.

Miroku chooses this moment to emerge from his room, rushing to her aid. "Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she shrieks, failing to keep her composure. Her patience is wearing thin for the day and it's not even dawn yet. "Why the hell is there a bra on the couch?"

His eyeline follows hers to the area where a crimson, lacy bra lies out in the open. He tugs at the ponytail at the nape of his neck, chuckling nervously. "Well, things got a little, er, heated last night before we made it back to my room."

"Please tell me you did not have sex on my couch."

"We did not have sex on your couch. Clothes merely…came off on the couch. She must have forgotten to grab her bra."

Sango groans, lamenting at the fact that it will probably take her ages to sit on the couch without the image of Miroku making out with another girl running through her mind. Naked. Gods, now she was picturing him naked. Sango all but moans, "Why can't you just keep it in your pants?"

"Your face is red," he says cheekily, poking her face with a finger. "Are you thinking of naughty things about me?"

She swats it away, glaring as her cheeks flare even more. "It's red with anger!"

Miroku leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin on his face. "What's your favorite sex position?"

Sango sputters, taken aback by his question. "Excuse me?"

"I bet you Kagome's is doggy-style."

"Miroku!"

His head tilts back in a full-blown laugh. He's enjoying this way too much. "Sorry not sorry."

"What kind of question is that?" She turns away from him so he can't see that her face matches the color of the bra on the floor between them.

"Think of it as a continuation of our 20 questions game, but dirtier." He pauses for a moment as if to build anticipation. "Okay, let's try another one then. Craziest place you've had sex?"

"I am _not_ answering that."

"Why? You shy?" he teases in a sing-song-voice. "No need to be shy around me, Sango."

She stomps, turning around. She throws her hands up, exasperated. "Because I'm a virgin, dumbass!"

Clearly, this is not the response Miroku was expecting. His eyes widen a fraction as her words register in his brain, a quiet "oh," escaping his lips in a whisper. He seems uncomfortable for a split second before he closes the gap between them, scratching his neck.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you are," says Sango before grabbing his hand, yanking him toward the door. "But not as sorry as you're about to be. Don't think you're getting out of this run. Try to keep up."

"Ah, but the view is so lovely from behind," he remarks, a lopsided smile finding its way back to his lips in torment. "Would it be too soon to comment that maybe that you being a virgin is why you're so wound up all the time?"

"Yes." Sango playfully slaps his head before shutting the door behind them, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me SO much trouble, but I am very pleased with how it came out. I actually had two other chapters written, and this was supposed to come after them. After talking to my friend sapphirestarxx, we decided it would be better to put this chapter first which is why I'm updating so late! The next two chapters are gonna be fluffy, so I can't wait for you guys to read it! :)


	7. Why Are You Helping Me?

"You're home early."

Sango closes the door behind her, kicks off her heels, and nearly falls over in the process. She stabilizes herself against the door. Miroku sits on the recliner with his laptop, hands poised on the keyboard. Kirara is curled up next to his feet. He glances over his shoulder and blinks at her appearance.

"You okay?"

She nods her head and immediately regrets it as a wave of nausea hits. There's a pressure in her head that feels like someone is driving a knife in-between her eyeballs. She stumbles forward, making her way to her room so she can curl up in bed. She tries not to throw up in their entry way in the process.

Miroku is up immediately. Kirara mews in annoyance by the sudden movement of the recliner. He's in front of her before she can move another step. His hands are on her shoulders as he searches her eyes.

"Too close," she mumbles, wondering if the heat in her cheeks is from a fever or from his face being inches from hers. He chooses to ignore her, pressing his wrist to her forehead and then to her neck. Her eyes flutter close, savoring the coolness of his skin on hers.

"You have a fever." She can hear the frown in his voice. "You've been working yourself too hard, haven't you?"

"Sesshomaru sent me home," she sighs remorsefully.

He makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "With good reason, too. Let's get you to bed, Sango. I'll make some chicken noodle soup if you want."

His hand rests on the small of her back, guiding her across the apartment. Memories of the last time his hand was on her like this dance in her brain. She opens her eyes as she walks with him. "You better not try anything, Monk," she warns, but they both know it's an empty threat with the state she's in. She finds herself leaning into his touch due to her unstable legs.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear Sango," he says with sincerity that settles in her bones. "No cursed hands today."

They're in her room and he directs her to her bed. She collapses onto the comforter, not even bothering to change out of her skirt and blouse. She's not sure that she has the energy, anyway. Vaguely, she's aware that Miroku is talking to her, but she already feels the pull of sleep tugging at her consciousness.

Sango awakens to a sharp pain in her back. She senses something trickling down her bare skin. Thick. Warm. Her pulse quickens. She can hear it pound. Loud. So loud. Please, no, she thinks and squeezes her eyes shut. The sound of the door clicking open is abrasive to her ears. Tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. They burn her skin.

Her name is called softly. She dares to open her eyes. Hope settles in her chest. It calms her erratic heart. "Father?"

A wave of realization crashes down upon her as he says, "Afraid not." Blue meets her brown. There's that pity again, swirling like the tide. "Just me."

"Miroku…?" she says with some uncertainty. She swears his eyes were brown like hers for a moment. She sits up with some difficulty, reaching to touch that spot on her back. She discovers the ache is gone almost as quickly as it came. When she brings her hand back up to her face there's no red like she expected. A shaky laugh escapes her lips, drawing a concerned look from her roommate. "Sorry, I guess I had a bad dream."

He hums with thought, eyes narrowed. "Fevers can do that." He hands her a glass of ice-cold water and some medicine. "Take this, it'll help."

She accepts. Her throat does feel raw. She briefly wonders if she was screaming in her sleep. She has some difficulty swallowing the medicine, but the water is nice and cool. It runs down her throat until it settles in her stomach. It's an odd feeling. "Thank you." Sango falls back onto the pillow with a sigh. "Sorry."

She jolts when something lands on her forehead. It's wet, but icy to the touch. She can already feel the warmth from her skin tainting the cold. Miroku holds the washcloth against her, lips set in a firm line as he concentrates on his task. "No apologies necessary, my dear Sango. Can't just let a beautiful lady suffer, hmm?"

She lightly swats at his hand in response, which elects a chuckle from his lips. "You can leave now."

"Not until we get this fever to break."

Is it possible to will away a fever just so she can get away from those taunting eyes of his? Sango sighs. If only it were that simple. Not that she doesn't appreciate him taking care of her, because she does, but something permeates her very core when she's with him. She doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How to get this fever to break so I can get a break from you."

Miroku places a hand over his heart and pretends to look wounded. "Ouch, that hurts. That's not a nice thing to say to someone who's been taking care of you."

"I never asked you to."

His lips tip upward in a small smile. "You didn't have to."

Sango gnaws at her cheek, averting her gaze from him. There's that feeling again, she ruminates. It crashes into her with little warning, pressing heavy on her chest. She closes her eyes, listening to her heart pound in her ears.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

Like a lullaby, it sings her back to sleep.

When she awakes again, the room is empty of Miroku's presence. Sweat covers her body. It's chilling. She pushes her slick bangs out of her eyes and sits up in bed, glancing at the clock. It's early morning, but not by her standards. She dimly wonders if she's late for work, if it's a workday at all. She's not sure how long she's been asleep for. Time passes differently when you're sick.

Sango climbs out of her bed, stretching her arms over her head. Her muscles are sore, and exhaustion still adheres to her consciousness. She grabs a change of clothes, mortified that she's still in her work attire from when she got sent home sick, and leaves the room. The apartment is quiet and dark. Miroku must be sleeping still, the lazy bum.

She retreats to her bathroom to take a quick shower. Sango represses a shiver as she brings the water up to temperature and enters to wash the perspiration lingering on her skin. She isn't overly warm anymore, but instead feels a chill as the hot water runs down her body. Her throat is still a bit scratchy. She supposes she sweat her fever out. The medicine Miroku gave her must have worked.

Miroku.

A sigh drips from her lips at the thought of him. Sango doesn't understand her roommate. Sometimes it seems like all he wants to do is flirt with her and get in her pants. Other times she sees such a fervent sincerity in his gaze that rattles her very being. She slaps her cheeks lightly, shaking her head. She will not get caught up in his current. She will not get swept under and drown in his presence. He's nothing but a womanizer. Taking care of her while she was sick would not change that.

After all, he is just her roommate, and her roommate he will stay.

Sango exits the shower, another chill running up her spine as the air hits her wet skin. A fresh wave of fatigue attacks her muscles. She wraps the towel around her torso, sinking to the floor as her legs buckle beneath her. In the back of her mind, she realizes the hot shower was probably not the best of ideas. The coolness that infiltrated her body was most likely due to her fever not, in fact, being gone like she had originally thought. Head leaning against the ceramic of the tub, she wonders if she'll gain some energy back if she just relaxes for a second.

Miroku chooses this moment to knock at the door, because of course. "Sango?" he calls in a soft voice.

Sango freezes on the floor, staring at the piece of wood separating them with wide eyes. "Y…Yes?"

"Are you alright? I went to check on you, but you were out of bed. I heard the shower on."

"I'm fine!"

"You don't sound fine," he admonishes. She hears him shift behind the door. "Can I come in?"

"No!" Instinctively, she tightens the towel closer around her frame. "Do not come in, Miroku! I'm not dressed!" Sango wonders why she added that last part because she can just imagine the look on his face right now. Warmth encases her body, momentarily diffusing the feverish chill, as she pictures him picturing her naked.

"Sango," his tone is low, almost pleading. "Can you please get dressed so I can help you?"

She swallows, dropping the towel and inching over to the counter where her clothes are perched. She's acutely aware of the thin door separating him and her naked form. Wordlessly, she shimmies her shirt over her head before slipping on her underwear and sweatpants. She's embarrassed by how this simple act of showering and changing has left her feeling as if a train ran her over.

Breathlessly, she calls, "Come in."

Miroku instantly enters the bathroom, looking around before his gaze falls to her form on the floor. "What are you doing down there?" His eyes widen in comprehension. "The shower was too much for you, wasn't it?"

"No," she all but snaps before correcting in a sullen voice at the sight of his raised eyebrow, "Maybe."

"You're too much, Sango."

"I was disgusting."

"You're sick. You're allowed to be disgusting."

"So, you agree. I was gross. Which is why I needed to shower. In my defense, I thought my fever had broke, and I was cold."

Miroku chuckles, one corner of his lip curving up. "You're impossible, you know that? I can never win when it comes to you."

She wants to ask him what he means by those words, but gulps them down before she has the chance to regret it. Instead, she holds out her hand to him. He accepts her invitation, gripping her fingers as he helps her to her feet. The towel lays forgotten on the tiled floor.

"Let's get you back to bed so you can rest some more," he says, putting his arm around her as he guides them back toward her room.

"I feel like all I've done is sleep," Sango replies as they enter the threshold. "I must have been sleeping for days now."

Miroku chuckles, "It's only been a day and a half. You were sent home Wednesday. It's Friday morning."

"What? Seriously? It seems like so much longer."

"Yes, Seriously. And before you ask, I already let Sesshomaru know you were going to be out yesterday and today. He had already anticipated it."

Sango crawls back into bed with Miroku's guidance. She pulls her comforter up to her nose, peering up at him through her lashes. "Thank you," she whispers beneath the sheets.

"Anything for you, my dear Sango."

She's suddenly glad she had the foresight to pull the covers up so he can't see the smile that captures her lips.

His hand assaults her head when she leaves the bedroom the next morning, wearing a fresh change of clothes that were not pajamas. "Hey," she says while she smacks his hand away. "What are you doing? Were…were you waiting outside my bedroom this whole time, you creep?"

Miroku ignores her. "Your fever is gone."

"So it is."

"Are you feeling better?"

"I am," she admits. "Thank you, I guess, for taking care of me."

His smile is lazy on his lips. "Do I get a thank you kiss?"

And there's the teasing, she thinks as she sucks in a breath of air. "Was that your motive for helping me?"

"Never. You don't take care of yourself, so someone has to."

"I don't need your help."

"I know. You're a big girl."

"Don't patronize me," Sango says, crossing her arms over her chest. "I already said thank you. What more do you want?"

"Nothing," Miroku says, "except your happiness."

There it is again. That sensation that's getting harder to ignore. She shoves his chest and pushes past him. "So poetic. You should write that in your novel."

His laugh tickles her ears. She's feeling warm again, but knows she can no longer blame it on the fever. "Good one, my dear Sango. So, what do you want for breakfast?"

For you to stop baiting me, she thinks, but instead says, "Surprise me."

Sango hates surprises, but finds herself hoping he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written since January, but added the shower scene because of a prompt I saw, so I hope it flowed and turned out alright. As always, I hope you enjoyed! :) The next chapter is one of my favorites, so I cannot wait for you guys to see it!


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